


Intentional Colors

by FreshBrian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Reality, Cas x Dean - Freeform, Dark, Destiel - Freeform, Drama, Fluff, Horror, Kinda Serious Fic Actually, M/M, Not Cheesy (I Hope), Romance, Same universe, Silly Ol' Garth, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Supernatural - Freeform, multi-chapter fic, vamp!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:13:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1189833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrian/pseuds/FreshBrian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean couldn't think about what had lead him up to this point in his life. Nothing made sense to him. Sharper scents and sounds are just some of the abnormalities that had popped up. Cravings he didn't understand along with massive headaches. Dean's life changes forever when he meets Garth and he got used to it, but then he meets someone that he can't get used to. Vampire!Dean/Castiel SPN!Universe</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Down with the Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Obsessed with the Supernatural series. Obsessed with Destiel. Obsessed with writing. And let them all combine with the angst of a teenage male. Boom. Fic. And the reason why I'm writing this is because I can't find any Destiel fics that I like that update regularly. Blah. I mean I love them sooooo much. And I wanted to contribute with my petty writing I guess. So, here I am. Crying to myself about this fic I thought up of just the other night and how amateur this story will be. Vampire love story. Cliché, no? :x I'll try my best not to make it cliché or cheesy as always and I hope you all enjoy this ficlet. Let me know if I should continue this or not... Well. Hope you guys like it.

"Son of a bitch..." A rough voice echoes around parallel walls of bricks; slicked with the moist air of the rising morning. It was early, before the sun had even thought to rise up upon the sky's territory. The chill of night lingers in this poorly lit alley way that would make anyone squint. What would catch most people's attention was the smell that erupted from the place. A putrid smell that would put stagnant water and a dead animal to shame. It was coupled with the appearance of the hidden and dark alley way. A man, tall and fit as a light description, stood under a barely functional lamppost, his black silhouette mirrored by the puddles surrounding the figure. His form was shaking, whether from adrenaline or fear the man himself didn't know.

The man swayed and leaned forward before his cautious foot stopped him from falling to his face. He had a dull pain in his side but it didn't seem extreme at all. Maybe a bruise, if anything. The standing man felt all around himself, feeling numb but being able to feel dampness on himself. He grabbed his head with one hand to help shake it to clear the grogginess but froze at the new sensation. The feeling of wet, moist warmth spread and slid down his face with the touch. His breathe hitched in his honey-like lungs. He felt down himself and found it almost everywhere. He pulled his hands away for fear of assuming without seeing in the dark. His breath was rapid and was speeding up, clearly on the point of choking himself. Most of all, he felt disgusting: nasty, gross, and repulsing at the same time. Then he remembered something, completely forgetting about himself for the moment being.

He glanced back behind him to find the man's body still shaded and slouched against the dirty alley wall. His head was tossed to the side and one of his palms upturned. He had seen the man before when he had just regained consciousness, but he had turned away from the gruesome scene, feeling so ill he could have thrown up everything in his stomach. He almost did too, feeling his gut lurch and his throat burn from the acid. The man standing blinked for a long while before letting the guy on the ground come back into focus. The man's legs were spread and just as limp as the rest of him. The standing man's eyes adjusted and checked the other's displayed neck before he let out a strangled, deity bashing, curse. His voice softly cracking with rising panic draining his voice.

"Dean, Dean, Dean, what the hell did you do, man?" His voice breaking several times in a husky and dark tone. Dean all but cried out as he gripped his head again not caring about the mystery liquid this time. His green eyes glowed with water that was building in his eyes and was bound to tip over. Dean's jaw was straining to keep in soft sobs with slightly trembling, slick lips. He had no clue what to do. How to go forward. Everything told him this was not good. Dean walked hesitantly around to the unnamed man. His whole being was screaming at him, though, Dean was not sure about what. He stood over the guy for a few seconds, contemplating his plan of action before deciding. He kneeled down, feeling the seep of water through his jeans and looked at the seemingly dead man in the alley.

Dean placed his hand to the man's neck, drawing his fingers over the other man's blood-ridden neck to check for a pulse. He pressed his fingers harder and finally feeling a light jump under the stranger's skin. He let out a surprised huff of breath from his opened mouth and he found a stray tear leak to his check from relief. He grabbed the guys face and tilting it towards his to get a better look.

The guy's face was skinny with a profound nose and deep bags under his eyes. His chin and lip was coated with a fair amount of hair, making his already thin lips seem thinner. His ears were big and coated with some blood as was the rest of his features. Dean felt more panic race through every part of him and he began to shake again. Instead, he gently smacked the guys cheek a couple of times before shouting at the man.

"Hey! Answer me, dude!" Dean clapped his face again but getting no rise out of the guy. Green eyes widened before leaning back and slapping the unconscious man's face so hard his head turned and a moan was elicited from the guy. Dean grabbed the guys face again and laughed with upset liberation, like pouring warm water to calm him further. He let go of the guys face and moved to his shoulders, shaking him again.

"Can you hear me? Hey, man, please." Dean's voice was stuttering and cracking even with how deep it was. He was watching for any signs of responsiveness from the stranger. He could see the guy try to move. It was like the man was moving through molasses with how he was twitching. Dean thought he was trying to open his eyes but without success. He groaned again and whimpered; this man's voice wasn't gruff or manly at all, similar to his appearance in many ways.

The stranger's forearm twitched, followed by his shoulder soon after. Dean let go of that shoulder and he let his newly clenched fist rest by his side. He watched as the man weakly opened his mouth a couple times before letting out a pained sound that echoed around them. Goosebumps erupted from Dean and he just kept watching, not sure what to do. The man tried to open his eyes again and opened them to slim slits. Dean's mouth twitched into a half-smile, though it wasn't happy at all. The guy's eyes opened enough that Dean could see eye color. His eyes were a light shade of green and were staring straight at Dean.

Suddenly, the guy's eyes widened fully, creating a horrified expression. And then he yelled.

"Y-you! You should be dead!" His voice was high-pitched and had a slight tone of confusion to it. He tried to move away but only to fall sideways with his head aiming straight for the ground.

"Shit!" Dean caught him before the man's head was cracked open on the ground. The guy was about to scream but Dean put a hand over his mouth. "Stop! Your voice freaking hur- son of a bitch!" The guys mouth came around Dean's palm and he bit down. Dean released him pulling his hand towards him and noticing small, red indentions. Dean glared back at the man who was currently glaring up at him from his newly slouched position. The stranger's face turning angry, yet he also looked confused.

"Why are y-" Dean cut him off in a rushed tone.

"Just stop! Are you okay?" Dean came a little closer to the now highly confused man. "I need to know now." Before, Dean had checked for a phone but there was nothing on either of their persons. And he didn't want to leave the bloody and, at the time, half-dead guy. Now the blood was slightly crusty and brown in some places, but it was still mostly red. The man clenched a hand and moved to push himself up. He shook as he did but also moved away from Dean.

"Yes. Now w-" Dean cut him off again.

"Awesome, I'm going to go get help, so you just stay pu-"

"No." The man was now glaring even more with his big eyes. "You are a monster, you shouldn't be alive and neither should I be! Why are we  _alive?_ " If Dean had seen him anytime else, he wouldn't have thought this man to be able to glare or be this forceful.

"I don't know what you are talking about, you lost a lot of blood so I'm goi-" Dean proceeded to say worriedly but then the guy was shouting at him with poison dripping off his voice.

"You aren't going anywhere! I Garth'd you and I myself got bit! What? Happened?!"

"I don't know!" Dean's voice dropping octaves and coming out almost in a growl. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Is your name Garth? Did you hit your head?" Dean wondered about the man's mental health. Hell yeah their situation was exceedingly odd and out of place and everything spelled out danger in all caps, but that was all the more reason to go get help. "Look, I have no clue what's going on. I woke up next to you with blood on you and-"

"I'm not the only one! Look at yourself!" Garth, his name for now, was more reserved now and didn't seem as brutal as before. His confusion was growing by each word they both said.

Dean looked flabbergasted and replied, "there is nothing wrong with me. I just have some street water on me and that's it. Ain't nothing that happened to me."

"That's not possible." Garth frowned and squinted. "You have blood all over you! Your face, your chest, and even your side where I shot you!"

Dean froze at that. His green eyes going to saucers before glancing down at his body, the dull pain in his side coming back for him to be able to locate the injury. He lifted his jacket and shirt and closed his jaw tightly. There on his body was a small bullet hole covered in dirty and dried blood. Smears of red and brown littered the skin around the wound and Dean almost couldn't believe it. He barely felt a throb, much less a freaking bullet wound! He prodded it with a finger and didn't feel much. It seemed to not hurt so he crossed some mental fingers and grew temporary balls of steel and pushed his index finger in. He groaned in pain as apparently the inside was still tender as getting kicked in the shin but he pressed on and felt metal. He took several deep breaths and groaned a couple times before he pushed it to the side to wedge it back towards the rest of his hand. He had no idea why he was doing this but he just felt he could. Dean felt it near so he gave a sharp twitch and the ruined ammunition went clank to the ground, bouncing and rolling unevenly. He stood there for a few seconds and looked at the blood that covered his fingers and hand. Though, as soon as he pulled his fingers out the pain went away and he had to gasp for air as if he had been holding it the whole time. He looked down and around, finding that the wound wasn't bleeding even though he had just rummaged around in his  _insides_.

"Oh golly, you are a vamp, but you aren't." Garth said staring at his stomach with fright and caution. Dean looked at Garth as he turned his light green eyes towards Dean's emerald ones. Dean cocked his head at himself for what the hell he just did and what the hell Garth was talking about. Nothing was making sense. Especially not himself. "That was a part of my Dead Man's Blood ammunition."

"Your what?" Dean squinted at him, ignoring that the man just said _vampire_. He couldn't understand this situation and this Garth person. Or where he was for that matter. Where in the hell was he? Before he could brood more, Garth spoke up sounding like he had more strength.

"Dead Man's Blood. It kills vamps." Dean was in utter disbelief at this point now and Garth took it as confusion. "You know. Vampires. Vicious monsters of the night." Dean was now questioning this guys sanity. He must be delusional. This Garth character must have gone crazy and ended up hitting his head. Even if it didn't explain the newly produced bullet lying beside them both, glinting with dim light. It didn't explain a lot of things. Like why Dean was involved. Why he had blood on him. Why there were faint marks on the man's neck...

Dean laughed without mirth, "whatever you say, man." He took a breath. Dealing with the insane was going to be difficult. "Okay, can you tell me what you remember? Of anything. Your name, where we are, what kind of situation you think we are in." Dean said carefully. Sammy had told him sternly about the mentally ill when Dean had made a joke about it. Dean had bit his tongue when Sam had passionately told him why it was wrong and problematic to joke about that and gave him some simple facts about the touchy subject. After that, he tended to watch his mouth about those topics of conversation. He truly didn't expect anything less from the Stanford law student.

He watched intently as he saw more of Garth come alive, yet, not. He had profoundly sunken eyes with dark circles around his eyes and other features. His skin was light and pasty and unnatural looking. He looked anemic. And wary and guarded, of course. He started moving more of his limbs to awaken them from their wounded state.

"I'm Garth Fitzgerald the Fourth. We are surrounded by abandoned warehouses in North Los Altos. I was hunting a _werewolf_ when it fled suddenly and instead you showed up..." He kept moving and then Dean saw his arm move behind him slowly.

Oh shit.

The insane man made a fast rapid movement as he pulled his arm from behind him, brandishing a large knife. Dean, reflexively and having a large rush of adrenaline, fell back smoothly, not entirely missing the machete (Dean now recognizes) as it slices the forearm which came up to protect him automatically. He swore as he felt it almost glide through his skin, but with a rough, stinging sensation. Dean grunted painfully loud and fear pumped him full of adrenaline, making him roll as far back as he could and forget about his injured arm. He could see Garth after he positioned his body sideways to let him bring his legs around top to help him stand, facing his dangerous attacker. Dean would have deemed himself awesome for his smooth-moved back roll if he wasn't scrambling as far away from Garth as quickly as he could. Garth was now in a weak squatting position, defensive with his machete poised in front of him. Dean brought his arms in front of him with palms facing the attacker in a show of defenselessness and unwillingness to fight. Even with this, Dean didn't stop back out of the alley slowly. Garth looked winded with breath coming out harshly through his larger round nose.

"You then looked at me like  _Killer Croc_  looks at Batman and-" Garth coughs slightly. "And you lunge-slash-attacked me. I don't remember anything else." Garth was now looking around intently then turned to Dean once more. Garth was confused. He felt that this vamp was the victim in this situation for some reason.

In the back of Dean's mind, he wondered about the comic reference but he didn't dwell for a second. "Don't attack me! I don't know what you are saying! You can't go around making up random stuff. I _did not_ attack you. Hell, I don't even know what I am doing here. Or why you are attacking me, man. Come on! Put down the weapon. I'm going to call the fuzz once I find a phone so you don't have a choice." Dean said, trying to put as much strength and accusation into his voice as possible. Dean was absolutely going to press assault charges even if the fucking asshole complied.

Dean could see Garth was still looking around now but he looked up sharply at the mention of the cops. Garth squinted and then finally seemed to come to a decision. He stood up slowly drawing back his arm with the machete. Dean narrowed his eyes calculatingly and stepped a couple feet back, eyes trained on the vicious weapon.

Then, Garth turned and threw the heavy blade in the opposite direction of Dean. Dean winced slightly at the sound of the metal clanging roughly with the ground and it slid a good ways away, further into the darker area of the alley. Dean was taken aback by Garth's sudden relinquished caution as the man raised his arms up in an awkward surrender. Garth then grinned. Happily.

"I believe you!" The strange man called out to Dean. Dean didn't trust him at all even though he looked so  _genuine_. "I think we have a big mess going on and we are both being misunderstood. I promise I don't have any more weapons with me. My gun doesn't appear to be anywhere and I only had my handy-dandy machete on me." He looked up thoughtfully then continued on. "If you want, you can come pat me down, but I doubt you want to get anywhere near me. Sorry about the arm though. I thought you were going to strangle me."

Dean was flabbergasted. What the hell? This son of a bitch wanted him to believe all this?


	2. Far From Stoker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo... Here is the second chappy. Longer (of course) than the prologue. ALSO. I UPDATED THE PROLOGUE. It now has more material and a better view of the situation back then. I'm happy to be getting this out. X3 I can't wait for my yummy Destiel to come into play more. Oh Cas and Dean... I just can't help myself! :3 Also, the beginning is just a recap so no actual dialogue between anyone until the present comes into play which WILL happen and is a big part of this chapter. Thank you guys!

**Far From Stoker**

* * *

 

Two months seemed to have passed by like an angry Audi driver. Things were more or less settled down for Dean now, but he was still trekking around with painful steps in every stride. Painful because he cut ties with everyone: Sam, Bobby, what very few acquaintances he had, and his part-time jobs at as a mechanic and bartender. He pulled out of his small apartment and he pretty much let go of everything pretty quickly. He called banks and settled things that would otherwise tie him to Palo Alto, California. What the hardest for Dean was Sam. Dean normally visited Sam or called him on a daily basis. To just stop that is what Dean chose. He chose to hide everything. To let go of everything. He felt he didn't deserve it, and he _definitely_ didn't deserve to see Sam anymore. For what he had become, or more better put, what he _was_. He didn't even think about if Sam could have this. Which might be seen as stupid to at least not check up on things but he didn't feel the need to. Dean just kind of knew that Sam wasn't like him this way. Garth didn't feel the same as he did but Dean didn't expect any less. Why would there just be one monster in a family. A _born_ monster.

See, Dean wasn't _bit_. No signs from memory. Paper or physical evidence of a possible transformation wasn't found. Garth checked records and news and profiles of anything on Dean and who he was close to (he hadn't known how he got that information but he wasn't going to question the quirky man). The really only bizarre finding wasn't really a finding. Sam and Dean's parents, John and Mary Winchester, had both died in a fire when Dean was four and Sam was six months old. Dean, and much less Sam, couldn't remember anything other than the fact that his (and his baby brother's) world with their birth parents had shattered. Dean nor Sam really minded though, for they were both too young, even though they had been drastically upset. Dean had gotten over their deaths somewhat early in life, though. Thankfully, their father's good friend, Bobby Singer and his wife Karen Singer, had gone through hell and back to adopt the boys right away and have them under their wing. They couldn't have had a better family. Karen had died of breast cancer not long after the boys were successfully adopted. That didn't stop Bobby from being the best damn father Dean could have asked for. Other than all that, nothing weird, wrong, or supernatural had happened to the boys. Nothing, and that pissed Dean the hell off.

He wanted, no, _needed_ answers. It was tearing him up inside in a way he never thought he could be. His chest ached and burned. He almost had a headache constantly now and only his beer accompanied him to a mind of ease. He wanted to visit Sam and call Bobby every day. Dean wanted them to know he was okay and that he hadn't just fallen off the face of the Earth. That there was no need to worry about Dean Winchester. He was pretty sure they were absolutely horrified and angry on why he just _disappeared_. Garth made sure of that too in every way possible. But Sam was safe from Dean. Dean didn't want anyone near him and he absolutely did _not_ want Sam near him. All he now wished for was when he figured everything out, that Sam and Bobby could maybe forgive him. Hell, Dean wouldn't forgive himself for this. But he felt it was the right thing to do. Researching with Garth was the right thing to do. And did he learn from Garth. Not at first, though, oh no. After their initial meeting and Garth's little 'misunderstanding speech', the crazy man had fainted.

Dean had taken Garth to the nearest Clinic/E.R. facility after finding his nineteen sixty-seven, Chevrolet Impala, Baby. She had everything in her and nothing significant was missing that Dean could find. His cell-phone was missing but Dean thought it was lost in the dark alley somewhere. Dean checked her and around the area before going to grab the unconscious man who most likely had a concussion now. Garth was unsurprisingly light as Dean carried him to his car. The drive was a restless one and was only relieved when Garth was being horded through some double doors. Dean had left after setting him up in the Clinic and giving them what little information they needed, even lying about most, if not all of the details of their late night encounter. They had been very persistent about every single damn detail, even wanting to get Dean into the clinic with all the blood he had acquired. He had told them it wasn't his and that it was just Garth's, trying to hide the ruffled hole in his clothes from the gun wound. Remembering that wound when he left, Dean had hastily lifted his shirt to see a very purple-y and yellow blotch forming around a god-damned _scab_. Dean had freaked out all the way to his apartment. His hands were shaking and perspiring on the wheel of Baby.

Dean had arrived in a new sweat and had slammed every door he went through until he was in his bedroom. Questions were bouncing and pounding in his head, just like his heart in his chest. He had taken a rapid shower and threw his wasted clothes away. When he came out, he wasn't in much better shape besides his appearance. He actually felt more terrified. He optioned on calling Sam but threw that idea out the window. He could solve this on his own. He just needed to think. He took himself to his bed and had laid down to think about his most recent memory prior to the incident with Garth. And he was surprised to find he _could_ remember. It was like it just needed thought to form it. He could see it all happen as clear as day.

_Dean was suffering a major headache on his way home from work. But that wasn't because of a petty caffeine addiction or sleep deprivation. No, it was the noise. The deafening hint of verbal abuse to Dean's very core. Everything was literally screaming at him. Anything and everything was like it was being amplified ten-fold into Dean's ears. He could hear it all. He had left the bar early where he tended to because of it._

_People apparently couldn't learn to calm the hell down and not scream at everyone. But the odd thing was that it wasn't just the customers. Clinks from the glasses bumping together or being set down was hurting his hearing as well. He thought his ear drums were about to shatter whenever someone stood up, scraping their chairs across the dirty floors. Dean felt about ready to puke the way sounds affected him. It was like they were stirring up his stomach the way Moby Dick got pissed being shot with a damn harpoon. His boss finally had enough of Dean's wheezing and complaining._

_Driving home, Dean almost crashed when he **felt** this strange booming howl pierce his already delicate being. It had shaken him to an uncountable degree. He couldn't stop the curse that found its way out of his lungs. His tires squealed on the rough road pavement and he gripped the wheel, controlling it with almost calm expertise. Dean about cried out with the way the road made his tires scream threateningly. Thankfully, the green-eyed man was clear of any other road companions. No one could be hurt if there was only one idiot on the road. After his beating heart calmed itself, he could finally question the dick who could be able to create a sound like that and slap the shit out of him with a damn cactus._

_Without much thinking, Dean started down a semi-busy road to a completely deserted one that seemed to call to him. Dean felt like he was on fire as sounds erupted around him as he drove slowly: cracks and flicks of the grass, crickets playing music for mates, trees grazing metal on buildings, rocks being crushed against each other. It was like everything was flicking in and out of focus as he began to speed down the dirt road where he could still picture the howl coming from. And soon, the roar of the howl was back. And not far off from his initial course. Dean was pretty sure he had been on auto-pilot because none of these actions were his. He only just barely slowed down to take a sharp right, Baby's tail-end swinging wide in the hurried momentum. Dean could feel himself glaring and clinching his teeth in a weak attempt to get a grip of this strange situation. He couldn't seem to care though as he slammed his foot down on the breaks, hearing each gear, notch, and tube follow instructions immediately. Dean almost ripped the handle off to get out of his precious car and had a moment of extreme sorrow before a growl ripple through the air._

_It wasn't far from Dean, but he had to clutch the short hairs on his head before looking around and taking in the surrounding buildings of warehouses and workshops. He let out a frustrated growl of his own before hearing a loud scuffling sound rush and get amazingly far in what seemed like a blink. It was foolish to follow something that fast so Dean focused on the new pounding sound that grew stronger. He walked a ways, gripping his head with a hand and blinking rapidly, green eyes flashing in the dim lights._

_Dean froze._

_Turning, he found himself looking at someone. A guy with a small gun aimed expertly at the ground and a face that screamed surprise. He looked behind himself and up, then back towards Dean. Yet, Dean couldn't see him in a way. It was like the sounds were blocking out everything and the most prominent **beating** sound was ruling over them all. Dean seemed to lose focus of everything and then nothing. It all seemed fake, like watching it all happen in a foggy mirror._

That was the extent of Dean's memory from before attacking and getting to know Garth. And getting to know Garth was tough, but endearing to Dean these past two months. It opened up Dean's world. Creatures he had never heard of and monsters of fairy tales were terrifyingly all real. Suddenly, everything was _scary_. The world was a supernatural-horror wonderland. It didn't settle with Dean for a long while, but Garth was persistent. Garth had even bailed from the clinic only to track Dean down.

It was a terrible first two weeks of Garth barging into Dean's apartment any time after his supposed 'research' trips. He even set up a small part of his "Secret Base" in Dean's apartment (which Dean had a fit over but Garth just ignored him politely). He was always smiling and making stupid goofy references to comics and other unknown readings. Dean finally got the part that Garth had been keeping an eye on Dean. Watching his every move and what he did, where he went. Dean snapped at the guy harshly when he found this out and got real worked up. Banter was going on one-sidedly as Garth took it in calmly and showed no aggression. Garth then talked to Dean and questioned him, asking weird questions. Dean answered them all hotly, yet, honestly. Garth then told him how Dean wasn't like other monsters. He was special for some reason unfathomed. Dean had joked about it but it soured up quickly when Garth came off with a giddy, yet very serious air. Garth was sure Dean was a Vampire, but he also wasn't one. Garth bounced off speculations and theories as to why and how.

One: Dean wasn't affected by the sun in the least. Two: Vampires had heightened senses such as hearing and smell which Dean had told him promptly before. Three: Dean also wasn't affected by Garth's Dead Man's Blood ammunition as a normal vampire would be which had been specifically made to have such an increased amount of effect, that it knocks vampires out for about a week and make regeneration almost impossible. Those three things were enough to make friendly Garth grind his teeth at night. Garth was frustrated even more because vampires had more symptoms than that. Dean's strength was unknown, currently, so nothing can be made about his vampire strength. They formed sharp claws when in a frenzied state or were defensive. Dean didn't seem to have that feat from all that they both remembered. Dean didn't even give the right _teeth marks_. Even though the marks had been healed behind a patch for a while, Garth had given them many glances in the mirror (the marks gone now). The bite marks had been big and open-mouthed, showing clearly a set of six puncture marks and semi-rips. It gave a distinct visual of all four canines having been fanged and both upper lateral incisors as well. It wasn't _every tooth_ like normal vamps. It was like it was incomplete. He told this to Dean and man went pale in the face.

And Dean wasn't happy at all. He wasn't happy because he had no idea what to do at the time. Where was his life going to have to go if he had to consume _blood_. Would there be a point where he would _only_ have to drink it? Did he really even need to consume that vial substance? Had he just gone insane and just attacked out of going crazy (not likely, Garth had informed him, the teeth marks of a vamp were not mistaken [or fake])? Could he have kept his normal life? So many questions with what seemed so little time for Dean to find out and answer. He was beyond frustrated. Scared even. Dean Winchester was scared. How was Dean suppose to go about this situation? Yahoo Answers sure as hell wouldn't help him.

At least Garth had stayed with him and helped him. _Was still_ helping Dean, two months later as well. Or, so Dean thought. Garth could just be keeping an eye out on Dean. But now, with contact lost with Sam and Bobby and Dean's apartment no longer his as well as other legal stuff, _nothing_ was holding him to Palo Alto, California. And it saddened him that he hadn't at least let Sam and Bobby know he was okay. But, there was just no way he could find to break it to them. And so, he was now on his way to a private estate where Dean and Garth could be safe, and keep others safe from Dean.

* * *

 

"Dean, are you really okay with this?" Garth's geeky voice questioned as he watched Dean angrily slam the door of the hotel they had stayed in the previous week. Last night, Garth had just informed Dean of a private estate in a small town that was owned by Hunters (Dean learned about them recently and that is what Garth was apparently). No one would find them and it was more or less safe. It was just a suggestion for the both of them to consider, Garth made sure to point out. And Dean jumped the gun.

Dean huffed and replied, "yes, I really am. I have nothing to lose and I can't focus cramped up in this damned small hotel. Plus, the front desk guy is a dick." Garth was used to Dean's hot words. What he wasn't used to was how he seemed to make up his mind in a jiff. Garth just thought Dean was head-strong in everything he did.

"Okie-dokie, big boy. I'm just making sure because the way you always talk about family makes it seem like you wanna stick close ta here." Garth asserted with a soft tone and a noticeable emphasis on 'big boy'. Dean shrugged like he wasn't affected but it still showed on his always-grim face. He popped the back of Baby open and loaded what little his shoulder bags held that he had kept from his apartment. The trunk was pretty much full from everything Garth carried with him. Dean also didn't want to know what all the lanky man had, from the metal clanks that made harsh noises and one bag that looked like it had a sombrero sticking out partially. He closed Baby as gently as he could and turned to Garth who held his almost empty beer. Dean took it from him and swigged from it, shoving his free hand into his jean pocket. He held his drink close as he made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat as the liquid cleared.

Dean looked down into his beer as he spoke. "Damn it, Garth, I'm so freaking sure I'd shoot Lincoln." Dean looked back up and gave him a bland stare with squinted eyes. Damn sun was glaring at them.

Garth made a sour look at what Dean said but backed off with hands raised. The geeky man turned away, muttering something about Lincoln being a good man and it being 'too soon'. Garth got in the passenger's side of Dean's muscle car. Dean waited a bit and glared at the front office before turning his way to the driver's side and getting in. Once in he saw Garth with a map in hand already. Dean started up his girl, letting her purr and explode to life with a deep rumble. Once on, his mix tape started up so he turned it way down to almost no volume. He rested back and turned to Garth, watching the guy think and plan the way with a single skinny finger.

Dean reached his arms back to rest behind his head feeling restless and a small kindle of excitement mixed with unwelcomed nerves. He also didn't want to think about it because his body almost felt foreign to him now that he knew its ugly and frightening truth. Even now, he couldn't believe he was a freaking vampire. His body felt foreign but he knew there was nothing different, it was just him feeling self-conscious. Over self-conscious; close to the point where he almost felt like a crappy teenager again. Dean felt a groan coming on just thinking about it.

"Dude, what's the plan?" Garth didn't seem to notice Dean talking to him because he just kept staring at the map. "Come on, man. I need to know so I can at least help plan or brainstorm or whatever the hell you do." Garth nodded. To Dean, it looked like it was to himself than to Dean's question until Garth spoke up.

"Well, dude, I think we need to get you a new personal phone. New IDs, if you are so dead-set on the idea of completely erasing yourself on plastic-"

"Sam and Bobby would be able to find me." Dean interrupted.

"-Then we need to get on that last. So. Phone first, buddy. We will get it on the way to the property. It will also only take us about, oh, five hours to get there." Garth's hick accent was stout but flexible. It came into focus a lot which Dean noticed but it also faded with his feminine-like voice. "Yeah, about five hours. And with your driving, Dean, it may be less. Etna isn't big but it also is close. North California." Dean didn't quite understand his term of close. Close for Dean was a corner store five blocks from his apartment. Not freaking half-way across a damned state known for how long it was.

Garth turned the map to Dean and showed him all the possible routes they could take. Dean chose his most favorable and shifted Baby into drive, knowing the way already with his great-born navigation skills.

A ways down the road Dean felt restless enough to make small talk.

"So. Hunters."

"What about them?"

Dean huffed. "I don't know. Do all you guys just cheat the system?"

Garth looked over then back out the window from what Dean could see from his peripherals. "Yeah, kinda. Only 'cause it's necessary. We don't have any form of payment for what we do. We just save people and hunt things. Not really a family business. We are all pretty much loners as well." He shifted in Dean's seat a bit. "We are like a secret organization that plays authorities."

"Play authorities? How?" Dean's frown grew as he passed someone going below the damned speed limit. People should at least go the freaking speed limit. Or nine over like Dean.

"Oh, ya know. Getting into crime scenes left behind by monsters is easiest when you are an FBI agent." Garth then mumbled, "or a Texas Ranger..." Dean decided to ignore that for now.

"And- and what. You guys just freaking walk on the scene flashing fake badges? Is that what you mean by a new form of ID for me?" Dean grumbled unbelievingly, making a exaggerated hand gesture too. Though, he was beginning to believe in everything Garth said. Even when the skinny guy seemed to have half a mind with some of the stories he told Dean.

"Yeah, pretty much. And I almost w'ound up in a cell because you left me at that clinic place. I had two different forms of ID on me and I wasn't listed in either of the real authority info bases. I had to call in some favors from other Hunters in high places. You're lucky too, because you didn't get my stuff that had all my goodies at the warehouses and those goodies weren't stolen along with my car. I would have had to do some major explaining if it had turned up at a local police station or somethin'. Those hard-headed suckers are tough to get out of." Garth whined and complained but he didn't sound like he had any hard feelings towards Dean.

"Okay. So you are saying I gotta get some badges and stuff? Dude, I don't know about you but I'm not FBI material, okay? I don't know the first thing about any services besides some medical services that I got from Dr. Sexy MD." Dean waned on, semi-jokingly. He accidentally brought up one of his favorite drama T.V. shows after he thought about what he said. Dean actually thought the idea of being a fake FBI agent was thrilling.

"Not if you don't want to. I was thinking more around some more handy IDs. Don't worry, though, I got this stuff, Dean." Garth then promptly gave him a thumbs up in front of his face. Dean glared at him from the corners of his eyes but soon turned back to the road.

"Okay. Well, what should we do in dangerous situations? Like. Uh, with the authorities. Or worse..." Dean swallowed his saliva. "If _I_ lose my cool..." Dean couldn't continue, hoping and succeeding in Garth getting the hint. Dean hadn't had anything go wrong in two months so he felt pretty confident he was fine for a while but he had some bad headaches the past few days.  Garth was silent for a bit before telling Dean what was on his mind.

"I think we should have code words. Some Hunters use them if they are working together on a case or somethin' around those lines. Called Hunter's Lingo from what I heard." Dean almost groaned because he could hear the forming excitement in Garth's voice. Dean also mentally corrected Garth with 'something along those lines'.

"Okay, Garth, what do you have in mind?"

"We are gonna need several for different kinds of situations. And code words are only used if you are in public or were people can hear you. Like, uh, if you get caught by cops or get lost or whatnot." Garth seemed to tick off on his fingers. Dean made a smooth right turn and sped along, gaining up to his original speed.

"What the hell do you think we are going to be doing?" Dean threw out there.

"Nothing, if we can help it. These are just going to be pre-cautions. Emergencies. Let's hope we won't have to use 'em." Garth paused for a bit before sighing and cracking his knuckles forward with only cracking one in the process. Nerd. Garth is so goofy it almost pains Dean physically. "Okay. We will need something for when you are feeling _like that_ again. So, how about... Fuzzy peaches for that?"

Dean blinks at him. "I am not going to use fuzzy peaches as a damn code word. It needs to be cooler. Like, Batman's awakening." Dean grins to himself feeling proud. He looks over to grin at Garth and the dude has an eyebrow raised at him. Dean's giddy grin falls slowly as he turns back to the road, moving his head in little, disbelieving whips, thinking it was freaking awesome what he came up with. Pure genius right there, damn it. "Or whatever." Dean said to cover up what little embarrassment he had.

"This is going to warn me and I'm going to try and get you far away from anything and everything. Also, if we are separated, for whatever reason, I'll come get you immediately. If anything happens after that, we'll wing it."

"Sounds good to me."

"Me too. I can't really think of anything else. You, Dean?"

"Nah."

"Ah man." Garth huffed. With a lower tone, Garth added, "and I wanted more secret code words..." The man looked like he was about to pout with his lips sticking out and everything. Dean rolled his eyes heavily at the dude.

It was silent for a long while on the drive. No major events occurred to them or around them. They stopped for a piss break and to restock with goods and fuel. Dean had turned up his radio a bit sometime along the ride. He softly started jamming to _Metallica_ and other awesome bands. Garth recognized a few and smiled thoughtfully to them it seemed. Others he casually listened to, not making any signs of unhappiness what so ever.

The sun was low in the sky, making colors dance in the sky and along the clouds. He checked the map Garth showed him and found they were about maybe 10 minutes out. He blinked happily at the road, slowing down to be a bit closer to the slowing speed limit. Cops in small towns were really bad about getting you if you were so much as five miles over the speed limit. He saw the welcome sign for Etna, Califonia and passed it into a small town. It was nowhere _near_ as big as any small town he has been to or passed through. And Bobby lived in damn Sioux Falls, South Dakota. It seemed nice at least. Small can be scary though.

"Alright, head on up through this here main road and take a left after the second light." Garth said without looking up from his map. Dean about gagged at Garth's accent that had taken a rapid turn. Dean, however, still followed the instructions and made the turn accordingly. "Now head this way for a ways. I'll tell ya when we turn ta hit a dirt road." Garth smiled at him.

Dean turned to him, incredulous. "Dude. What's with the- the creepy accent?" Dean's eyebrows crunching together as he tried to fathom a reason out of his ass.

"What? I can't practice a accent?" Garth said in a normal tone that made Dean less freak out.

"No, just, warn a guy next time."

"I have to get into my roooole." Garth said in a sing song, _almost lisp-y,_ voice. Dean shook his head in a good-natured thought. Garth was full of surprises.

"Okay. Have fun with that." Dean murmured to himself more than to Garth.

Garth gave him the signal so he turned down a dirt road. Slowing _way_ down as to not hurt Baby or get to much dirt on her. They arrived a long while after the turn. The estate seemed to live at the end of the road in the deep forest. He parked her not far off from the _house_. It was a damn big house too. Dean really expected a freaking trailer or maybe a big cabin. Not an actually nice looking house. Dean smiled a bit as he turned Baby off and got out, admiring the place.

He heard Garth get out and watched the lanky guys jog over to a very unused well. He took out a stone from it and grabbed a key that was laying there. He turned to Dean and smiled, holding up the key before putting the stone back in place. He walked back over with light steps and put it in his back pocket. Dean grabbed his own keys and headed to the back of Baby with Garth in tow. He popped her and grabbed all he could (which was most of Garth's as well). Garth easily grabbed what was left and turned to the house. Dean shut Baby up and followed after the giddy guy.

The steps that led up to the front door were connected to the side of the house and flattened out onto a wide front porch. Garth popped open the door easily with the key and shouted a, "welcome home!" They both looked around to access what kind of living environment they were going to be staying in. It appeared to be a wide hall that had a big, open living room to the left and Garth headed immediately to it, setting the bags on a floor next to a covered couch. Dean glanced around once more before heading his way and dropping the bags as well. Dean clapped his hands together and rubbed them before taking in what little furniture the place seemed to have. Garth practically floated to the closed off double doors opposite to the living room and opened them grandly. He walked to the far side of the newly discovered kitchen and grabbed a handle on a cabinet and pulled. He then closed it and did the same to the adjacent one. He gave a little noise of recognition before grabbing a tiny notepad. He turned back to Dean and began reading off it.

"Two bedrooms and a master bedroo-"

"I call it!" Dean shouted as he walked into the kitchen.

"But, Dean, I haven't even- I... I wanted the master bedroom."

"Garth, you could sleep in a damn closet, you're so tiny." Dean crossed his arms.

"That doesn't mean-"

"Oh-ha-ho, yes it does. Doesn't matter anyways. I called it first." Garth was glaring childishly at Dean by now. Dean didn't care. He wanted the damn master bedroom. Garth continued to name off the list's contents.

"Four bathrooms, three baths, three closets, a study, a backroom porch, a study-slash-storage, a kitchen, a pantry filled with non-spoiled goods, and a shed out back. Oh, plus the well." He turned a page over the back of the pad and started up again. "Refrigerator and air conditioner work. Just gotta turn the breaker and water on for stuff... Seems like everything works according to what it says at the bottom. I'll go do that stuff. Dean, can you take off the covers to everything and you can start unpacking or whatever." Garth didn't wait for an answer as he turned to the front door and heading out it. Dean lifted his eyebrows at the place before frowning thoughtfully and getting to work.

Almost being finished with the covers downstairs, Dean hears some clicks and then a constant fan noise. Air conditioning. He didn't even notice the heat because of being a mechanic most his life made him semi-immune. He heard some more flicks as he pulled the last cover off a kitchen chair and a light flicked on in the hall way. It wasn't really necessary because the evening sun was shining everywhere in the house but it was nice to know the electricity worked. He walked in to the hall and towards the back of the house. Two more doors appeared to his front and left sides of him while his right was stairs. He opened the left first, seeing a bedroom with a covered bed and a door that probably lead to a bathroom. He didn't close it but went straight to the other door and found the backroom porch, very open with several windows and two covered chairs. Dean turned and climbed the stairs, switching on a light to light up the way even more so. When Dean reached the top it made a sharp u-turn to another open hallway that turned and continued. He walked down and turned to the hallway that had three more doors. He opened the right first and discovered the master bedroom.

"Ah, dude, yes." Dean said proudly as he walked in. This was going to be freaking awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmmm, yes. This was a longer one that I did NOT plan. Waaaaay longer than I planned it to be and I have a very clear mind about the 3rd chappy. It shall be up soon. :3 ONLY because I can't wait for Castiel to arrive in my story. So. Yay! Cas will be here next chapter! Do you guys think I'm doing okay? This is my first Supernatural fic and I just feel weird getting into Dean and Garth's heads. I'm making Dean's mentality somewhere in Season 8 while he is about as old as he was in Season 4 right now. So about 30? Eh. If you are confused you can ask me. Well, until the next chapter, guys! Love you, cubs! :)


	3. Nothing Against Meyer

**Intentional Colors**

**Summary:**  Dean couldn't think about what had lead him up to this point in his life. Nothing made sense for him. Sharper scents and sounds are just some of the few abnormalities that had popped up. Cravings he didn't understand along with massive headaches. Dean's life changes forever when he meets Garth and he got used to it, but then he meets someone that he can't get used to. Vampire!Dean/Human!Castiel SPN!Universe

**Warning:**  Cursing. Violence. Horror (of course). Male x male. (Don't worry. I'm not going to have anything to do with rape and/or forceful sexual situations. If you are looking for that, please turn away. This fic is going to be a very loving and feeling type story.) Slow!Build love. Future sex scenes. Slight OOC. Slight AU. Well. Same universe but different time-liney thing. So, yeah. And Cas is finally here and the love and romance shall begin to develop! SO ALL THE HOMO GUYS.

**A/N:**  Sorry this has taken so long for me to get out! I'm truly, very sorry. Life happens. This fic looks like it is going to be really long... I'm really happy to be putting this out because they (Dean and Cas) won't leave my brain! I have had this stuck in my brain and typing for hours on end at night where my imagination comes to life. Going to bed at 7am isn't that bad... Derp. My health is plummeting but I'm having fun doing it! Yurp. Cas baby is here in this chapter so the Destiel will start rolling and stuff. Also, I'm not sure I'm going to keep Garth as a chapter regular.

ALSO!!!! I changed something due to where this fic is heading sooooo yeaaaaaah. You guys will find out. ;3

* * *

 

**Chapter 2: Nothing Against Meyer**

The side of Dean's lip started twitching up as he gazed around his new room, swinging up on his toes a bit. The master bed was towards the back with yet another white cover protecting it from the natural elements. Two nightstands were along either side of the bed and a rug was rolled up just in front of it. Curious, Dean walked around to the side of the rug with hands in his pockets and gave the rug a push with his foot. It rolled out to exposed a quite fluffy, circular rug that was a shade of _light pink_. Dean's stomach dropped as he quickly removed the bed's cover. He internally let out a sigh when he discovered the bed was a normal tone of light navy blue. Dean couldn't help but think it was a strange combination for a bedroom design. Dean shrugged and turned to the two doors adjacent to the bed and discovered the master bath and a semi-walk-in closet. He nodded towards both of them before hearing a downstairs door open. Dean walked out the room and continued to the other door and found the other bedroom.

At the end of the hall was the study and storage combination Garth mentioned. Satisfied, Dean turned and made an instant jerk back.

"Damn it, Garth." Dean cursed the lanky man peaking around his shoulder to see what was in the room behind him. Dean's voice was deeper than usual with clenched teeth. "Don't do that. You about killed me."

"Oh. Sorry, Dean. Just checking what's all up here." He said turning around and heading back down stairs. Dean flicked his eyes towards the ceiling almost sullenly as he headed to grab the rest of the covers that lay on or about the furniture upstairs.

Dean shook off his earlier surprise with use of shaking the flimsy covers. The dust fluttered to the ground with great amounts that didn't really bother Dean. Nothing dirty really bothered him anymore after messing with cars for most his life. Nothing is worse to Dean than a accidental face-full of rust and dirt when cleaning out the underneath of an old truck. Aged, dirty automobiles of any kind has made Dean immune to most unlikable things.

After the dust settled on the ground, Dean frowned. He probably should have done this outside and not in the middle of the hall. He shrugs and doesn't bother to worry for he will just clean it up later. Dean makes a check in his head to remind himself to be more aware of stuff like that so he won't have to bother with it later. He nods to himself and heads on downstairs to put the covers nicely in a closet, making sure that they take up as little space as possible with neat folds. He hears Garth's uncoordinated gait descending the stairs as Dean manages the closets newest content.

Checking it once more before closing the closet for good, Dean heads into the kitchen rubbing his head in slight discomfort from an annoying pressure behind his eyes. Dean ignores it as it seemed to go away as quickly as it came. Looking around, he knows everything that has a horizontal surface is probably coated with a nice layer of dust and dirt. He finds the kitchen is at least updated to at least the early Twenty-First Century, thankfully. Dean deems it has a fairly nice sink with a disposal system and an 'okay' looking refrigerator. With a sarcastic frown in place, Dean opens the fridge and sticks his head in to see what the temperature is. He could feel its coolness but it wasn't significant yet. Dean thought it still needed time to get to the optimum temperature of most refrigerators. But he immediately reopened the closed door of the unwieldy cooling machine as soon as he thought of something else. He lifts an eyebrow when he notices Garth coming into the kitchen with his previous writing pad, taping a pen on it.

Garth seems to catch on pretty quickly to Dean's now obvious dejectedness at a vital missing component within the fridge. Food.

"Yeah, we are going to have to get some appliances for the house if we want to live here," Garth said with a quick glance into the empty refrigerator. Dean about sighed as he closed the door and headed over to the nice sized pantry. Garth headed over with him and they both peered inside, looking at the available 'non-spoil' foods.

Many can were stack upon each other in several rows that probably reached all the way to the back of the pantry. Everything was fine and seemed well preserved. Dean even saw some dog-food for if some hunters had dogs, he assumed. Huh.

"So, supply run. Gotcha." Dean nodded to himself absent mindedly. "When do we head out?"

"Whenever _I_ want I guess." Garth said looking at Dean pointedly. Dean pinched his eyes a bit before getting what his lanky friend was saying. And Dean wasn't pleased.

"Garth, no, c'mon man. You can't let me _not_ go. I have a right to choose my own groceries." Dean said rubbing his mouth and chin, scratching lightly. He didn't think he was going to win this easily. Or at all, for a matter of fact. He was still going to try.

"You can text them to me." Garth said patting his butt where his phone was held. Then something clicked for Dean.

"Well, we seemed to have forgotten to pick up my handy-dandy phone on the way over here. And I'm _not_ going to let you choose my phone. Plus, I feel fine, damn it. I know we have to be careful but I'm tired of being cooped up. I haven't even vamped out for two months. I'm pretty sure I'll be good for one night of food shopping." Dean looked hard at Garth trying to persuade him. Dean knew he was going to be cooped up for a long time before they figured everything out about Dean they could find. Probably more tests were going to be thrown at him as Garth settles in to start more research. It was going to be such a bitch to work with.

"Dean, don't make me tranquilize you. I will, you hear?" Garth crossed his arms and swung his head like he was scolding a kid. If Garth didn't let him go he was going to start insulting his damn nose.

Dean huffed in anger. "Garth, I'm going whether you want me to or not." Dean replied swinging his arms out to the sides.

"Guess I'm gonna have to say 'hello to my little friend'," the guy turned and started walking towards his weapons' bag. Dean sneered and felt the urge to punch his acquaintance. He obviously didn't but he wasn't happy. At all. No more Mr. Nice Dean for Garth now.  

"Fine, dick!" With a glare towards the ceiling, Dean grabbed his own bags and marched to the stairs.

"Dean, I'll grab the phone first and come back to give it to you before I go to the store. I'll go as fast as the Flash." Dean could hear the front door open before Garth called out, "make a list of what you want from the market in the mean time!"

Dean brushed off a reply and headed up to make a home of what he had in his bags.

* * *

 

Quite contrary to what Garth said, the guy was gone for a little over an hour. Dean was so bored. It took him probably less than ten minutes to put up all his items. Personal items went into the bed's side table's drawer. His bathroom supplies bag just thrown onto the sink's counter. And he just left the rest in his duffle bags. The house was feeling less stuffy and old from the AC working its magic. There was no T.V. but there was a semi-modern radio that got a fairly good signal to some good stations. Dean turned it on just to have some background noise while he dusted surfaces with one of Garth's shirts. He didn't care if he ruined it. In his eyes, Garth deserved it for keeping Dean cooped up all the time.

Garth walked in when Dean had moved onto the kitchen counters. Spooked and shocked, Dean hid the dirty shirt behind his back and smiled nervously as Garth walked in.

"H-heya, pal." Dean greeted rubbing absently at the shirt behind his back.

Garth didn't even look at Dean as he set a heavy looking _Vonage_ bag on the counter. He greeted Dean as he tipped the bags contents out and Dean was taken aback. Forgetting all about the shirt, he set it on the counter and walked over to Garth where he stifled through its many items.

Several phones, chargers, and cords were mixed and mingled in one disastrous pile. Why the hell did they need all that?!

"Um, Garth? What the hell is all this?" Dean exclaimed rather loudly, gesturing towards the stuff with an angry finger.

Garth sighed. Without turning to Dean he said, "Supplies, Dean. Specifically, your new phone." Garth said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah, no, buddy. You have like, ten phones, man. Those can't all be for me." Dean put his hip against the counter watching Garth sort and line up all the cords and cellular devices.

"They aren't," he side-glanced the Winchester. "Since I was compromised in Palo Alto by _someone_ bringing me to a hospital and having my stuff being taken away, I need new phones to contact my fellow Hunters. Thank golly I still have my one phone." He grumbled, pulling out yet another cell phone from a pocket. "I'm glad I haven't lost my contacts."

Dean gave a doubtful look. "Why do you even _need_ that many phones?"

"It's a long explanation. The short version? Hunter's pre-caution."

"Can I have the long version?"

"No. You'll find out sooner or later."

Well, wasn't he just being a stick up Dean's ass. Dean just wanted to know more about what the _hell_ was going on. He was so left out of everything. What was anything anymore? He just didn't know but he _wanted to_. He wanted to know what was going on. And, damn it to hell, _he wanted answers_. He left his family, his job, his whole life! Dean felt like he was being treated like a child. Secrets being kept, information being withheld. He literally had no clue as to what was going on. Or even why they were here in this bum-fuck-all town! Sure, Dean had agreed to go-- mostly just because he wanted to get away from Palo Alto and Sam-- on the spur of the moment, but now he wanted to know why. Dean was going to get answers.

"Why are we here?" Dean asked a bit coldly. Garth turned at that.

"Huh?"

"Why are we _here_ , Garth. In goddamn Etna, freaking California." He interrupted Garth before he could say anything. "No, I want the truth or I'm walking out the door. And don't even think of grabbing the tranquilizer." He gave Garth his most serious look. He wasn't joking around right now and he didn't want some half-assed answer.

Garth was quite for a moment before he turned to look at Dean with a serious face. Or, as serious as Garth could pull off.

"A Hunter gave us this place to be safe at. Hunters have lots of connections and know a lot of abandoned houses, cabins, lodges, you name it. They are locations in which we go to for hunts. Well, hunts that are close to where ever it is we decide to hold up in. We are here at this place because there are no hunts near, or around here. Haven't been any for a couple years.

"I've made contact with a Hunter that could help us. He goes by the name Gordon Walker. He is well versed in vampires for he specializes in hunting them." Garth looks away before continuing. "This is one of his safe locations he has. He is off on a hunt in Wyoming and probably won't be done for about two weeks. He wants us to bunker down here before he can come back and help us with whatever is going on with you."

With all of that, Dean is actually surprised Garth let out so much information. The guy gained a little respect back from Dean for that.

Dean is starting to think Hunter's are like supernatural scientists or something, the way Garth puts it. Studying Dean and whatever kind of phenomenon he is. Even getting other hunters to help out. It felt like something out of a sci-fi spy movie or something. There was this whole community of people who keep people safe by fighting the monsters that haunt the night. Even specialists who kills Edward Cullen for a living. This is so unreal, he kind of doesn't want to believe it. Even though Dean is living proof it's all true.

"O-okay. Thanks, Garth..." Dean says in reply, still a little taken aback.

Garth seemed to dismiss it and turned back to sorting. Once he was finished, Dean saw that there weren't ten cell phones, only 6, not including Garth's pre-existing one.

"Did you finish the list of items you want from the store?" Garth asked Dean, pulling him out of his daze. Dean nodded and handed him a folded piece of paper. "Tubular." He said before turning and taking several of the phones to the table.

Garth spread out the phones, putting two alone and the rest in another group. 

"Dean, you will have these two." Dean walks over to Garth and looks down at the two phones as they turn on with little noises. "You are to always have one on your person and, hopefully, the other nearby in a safe place at all times. I'm going to input my number and a couple other numbers of Hunter's, just in case." Garth starts typing away at one of Dean's flip-phones, and does the same to the other. He moves and hands them to Dean with a sloppy smile.

Turning the phones around in his hands, Dean utters sarcastically, "Isn't this just too cool."

"I'm going to go to the store now," Garth ignoring Dean, stands up. "Call me if anything happens. Anything, Dean." There goes the lanky guy's seriousness. "If you see a dog, or even if you break a chair or anything. Let me know." He huffs happily. "I'm going to go meet the town's people!"

"Love you too, honey. Bring me back flowers." Dean responds, mockery lining every word. Dean watches the door shut and hears Baby start up. He let Garth know a while ago what would happen if he did anything to Baby that wasn't driving carefully. Let's just say it had to do with a dull knife and missing organs.

Dean turned away to shuffle around the house looking for something to do. He decided on cleaning and touching up the house the best he could.

It had been around thirty minutes since Garth had gone before he started feeling odd. Dean couldn't really explain it. It was like a tickle in his veins or something. It was an indescribable and it made Dean pause and just stare at nothing for a while. Blinking owlishly at nothing, he tried to think up of something that it related to. He dropped the broom and just stood there before something came to him.

It was like the feeling of being scared from the illusion of being watched. It's like Dean could feel eyes on him where there were none, obviously. He was on the second floor of the house. But it wasn't quite that either. It was just a feeling. Like in the back of his mind, he could feel it. That little prick of fear or terror.

Dean was beginning to be creped out. This wasn't a pleasant feeling. It ran invisible shivers up his body, making his limbs tingle in a numbing way. What the hell was going on? Then a knock resounded from downstairs and the feeling was gone. Dean stood there for a while trying to decipher what had just happened but snapped out of it when another series of knocks came.

Dean walked calmly down the stairs wondering who would be here at this time. The sun was dipping and would be gone in another couple minutes or so. He shrugged to himself before walking up to the door. There was no peer hole so he contemplated for a second before just winging it and opening the door.

There stood a man, Dean's height, in a beige trench-coat looking quite speculative as he observed Dean. And that's when the feeling from earlier came back ten-fold. Dean didn't even get to examine the other guy because everything suddenly jumped into fifth gear.

* * *

 

Sorry for the big cliff hanger! I just want to have a big next chapter. Hold your belts up, cubs. I actually have no idea what I just said there. Let me know what you guys think so far! :)


End file.
